THE LONGEST NIGHT

In December 1969 Adrienne Howley and Harry Gilbert were desperate to reach Durban.

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Their sails were rotten, their food almost gone. They had very little petrol and were uncertain of their position.

December 23rd. Rough seas increasing. Overcast. Has the gale petered out? Air cool, sea confused, wind light to moderate. No ground lost, thank goodness. Only a little flour left. Enough food for five days if very careful?? Very depressed, especially when listening to the radio. [...] Noon to noon, forty miles. Two hundred miles to go. Christmas Eve. Cold, grey and dull. Wind petered out after the gale and we slopped about all afternoon and night. Nearly drove Harry mad this morning because it kept promising and he kept trying [...].

So there we lay, slopping about in choppy seas and inky darkness. Harry was bone weary and we were both depressed. The stores had dwindled faster than I had calculated.

My greatest anxiety was that the postal authorities in Durban might not hold my mail. Though I had written from Rabbu and again from Jakarta explaining the manner of our journeying. It was now eight months since we had heard from anyone we knew. Was it all well? What will they do tonight?